


Memoirs Of a Creepy Brother

by AngeliaDark



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Brothers Being Creepy, Coercion, Everyone's A Damn Creep, Filming, Fontcest, M/M, Recreational Drugs, Somnophilia, Swapfell, Taking Advantage, Underfell, Unwanted Praise, Voyeurism, clotheswap, switch dynamics, underswap - Freeform, undertale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9884294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeliaDark/pseuds/AngeliaDark
Summary: A collection of stories about the Skeleton Brothers being total creeps in different universes.





	1. I Spy With My Little Eye Something Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recipe: Papyrus Classic, Voyeurism, Sansby

Tonight was not a good night for sleep.

Papyrus stared up at his ceiling, dimly illuminated from the Gryftmas lights outside his bedroom window, and let out a sigh for the umpteenth time since he had been tucked in with his bedtime story. It seemed to get worse every year, he has observed. Sleep did not come to someone as great as he was...although Sans and his friend Alphys had mentioned something about having an overcharge of magic energy as being the culprit, but really, a high level of magic came with greatness, naturally.

It was becoming more of a burden than a boon now, as his magic clearly needed rest in his scheduled monthly sleeping night, and yet he could not for the life of him sleep.

Papyrus turned on his side, staring out the window, seeing the snow drop down softly, the lights creating a pleasant rainbow of color that did absolutely nothing for his need to sleep. His eyelights trailed to his bedside clock and felt yet another sigh escape him; almost midnight. At this rate, he would have to take a day off from work if he was going to be getting the eight hours he needed to properly balance out his magic.

Perhaps he should tell Sans, he thought quietly. He had a similar problem last month that had him sleeping in until nearly noon, but Sans had been comforting and supportive about it. _'Your sleep cycles are as unpredictable as your nature, Paps'_ he had said. _'It shouldn't be something you rush or force'_. Solid advice as that was, it still bothered Papyrus. Why, he couldn't be at the complete mercy of his own sleep cycles; what if a month came that he slept right through a human coming down? Inconceivable!

Papyrus groaned, burying his face in his pillow; this was getting ridiculous. He had a half-mind to put on his boots and take a run around Snowdin forest until he felt too tired to think. Or perhaps sitting up for late-night television with Sans. Yes, that sounded good, he thought as he sat up and pushed his covers down. Sans was always willing to help him out when he was having trouble sleeping. A few reruns, a mug of warm milk and honey, and he'd be dozing off in no time—

The sound of the front door opening and shutting gave him pause. There shouldn't be any guests this late, and the house was silent. Papyrus padded over to his window, quietly looking out in time to see Sans walking past the house and off into town.

That was peculiar. The stores that Sans would NEED to go to were all closed for the evening, save for the pharmacy or the inn. Perhaps Sans knew he was having trouble sleeping and decided to get something at the pharmacy, Papyrus thought, craning to watch his brother walk, that idea sort of going out the window when he saw that Sans was walking on the opposite end of the town path that the pharmacy was on.

What was going on?

On impulse, Papyrus quickly tugged his boots on and threw his scarf and a coat on before quickly leaving the house, keeping off to the side to avoid being seen; something told him that Sans leaving the way he did indicated he didn't WANT to be seen. Papyrus trailed behind, glad for his superior eyesight from a distance, and watched as his brother walked over to Grillby's place and ducked around the back.

That was peculiar. Grillby's was closed, as was everywhere else, until early the next morning. Why would Sans be going there? Papyrus followed, aware of the unnatural silence that he was unaccustomed to in the normally-lively town, and bitterly mused to himself that he should be sleeping with the rest of them, if only Sans's secretive missions weren't keeping him awake.

He followed the trail his brother left in the snow, glad of the lack of snowfall that would otherwise hide the tracks, and took pause when he found that they ended up at the back door of the restaurant. Even more peculiar. Why would Sans be here if it was closed? Surely he wouldn't camp out overnight just to be the first customer in the morning...but then again, Papyrus had seen Sans be lazier.

Still, wouldn't it be rude to just walk right in? Whether he liked the establishment or not, this WAS Grillby's property, and going in uninvited would be rude...and Papyrus was sure, illegal. He mulled over it for a moment before raising his hand to knock, the first touch creaking the door open slightly.

Oh, it was unlocked, he thought. Open door, open invitation, Undyne taught him THAT. He opened it further and crept inside, his eyelights flickering to adjust to the darkness as he looked around. He'd never been on THIS end of the restaurant before, and he felt a slight shudder of a thrill run up his spine. He wondered what Sans was doing here in the dark, at nearly midnight.

He got his answer soon enough.

Papyrus saw a flicker of dim light from around the corner; he peeked around and saw that the corner led to the actual restaurant, from the other end of the counter. Shifting further in, he saw that the source of the light was none other than Grillby, whose body flames were giving off not only light, but also an air of warmth from even where Papyrus was situated. He stilled his breath, hearing soft voices speak through the silent building.

“...too long, Sans,” was Grillby's voice he heard first, the tone not unlike the soft lick of fire against pine wood, just as rich and twice as warm. He was standing in front of his bar, and Papyrus took a moment to notice that he couldn't see Sans at first because the smaller Skeleton was sitting on the bar, almost obscured by Grillby's broader form.

Papyrus looked closer, seeing Sans's smile from over Grillby's shoulder, eyelights almost orange in reflection of the Flame Monster's fire. “Sorry, Grillbz,” Sans replied, his hands busied somewhere on Grillby's front. “I had to wait for Paps to get to bed.” His hands tugged, and Papyrus saw Grillby's shirt come open.

This....was odd. Papyrus was having an inkling of what he was seeing, but...no. No, it couldn't be THAT, could it?

A crackling growl from Grillby coincided with a warming of the area, the Flame Monster leaning closer to Sans. “I'm tired of how little I can have you, Sans,” he murmured, his own hands bracing on the edge of the bar on either side of Sans. “It's unfair.”

“Ahh, I know, Grillby,” Sans replied apologetically, reaching up and touching the taller Monster's fiery face. “But I'm here now, right?”

Grillby growled again, a sound that seemed to resonate through Papyrus's bones even from where he stood. “Right,” he replied, one hand reaching between them; Papyrus couldn't see what it was doing, but his spine lurched when he heard his brother gasp and let out a soft creaky sound. “You're here NOW, Sans...and you're all mine, all night.”

“F...fuck, Grillbz...” Sans gasped, his cheekbones tinging a soft blue. “Ease up there, will ya—“ He yelped when in one motion, his shorts were yanked off and dropped to the floor before the hand that did so went right back between them, working itself fast between Sans's femurs. “Sssssssshit—“

“Such a filthy mouth you have tonight, Sans...” Grillby purred, leaning in and parting a fiery slit that functioned as a mouth, a lava-tinted tongue sliding out and licking over Sans's cervical bones. “Whatever would your baby brother think, with such lewd words?”

“ _Guh!_ —fuck you, Grillbz...!” Sans groaned, his hands clenching tightly into Grillby's shoulders. “How can you even bring up Papyrus right now, you fucking pervert—!?” He broke off, dropping his skull back as Grillby's tongue lapped over higher bones of his neck.

Papyrus could only stare at what he was witnessing, unable to move or form a coherent thought. He wasn't an idiot as to what he was beholding; Sans had given him The Talk years ago when he was about to graduate out of striped shirts, and he knew the general idea of what sex was and how it worked. But SEEING it, right before him, between his older brother and the one person in Snowdin whom Papyrus actively disliked...

Inconceivable.

And yet it was happening before him.

He felt his hands clench of their own accord as he watched, unable to tear his eyelights away from the display. Unable to stop hearing the lewdness between them, of Grillby using HIM to tease his brother!

“I'll stop bringing him up when you come around more than once a month,” Grillby continued almost dryly, his hand stilling between Sans's femurs, leaning the smaller Monster back onto the bar. “I'm serious, Sans, it's not fair that you can't even stay the night in my bedroom.” He loomed over Sans, splaying his hand next to Sans's head. “You spend all month teasing me RELENTLESSLY with your innuendos, and then you can only spare a few hours? It's getting quite old, Sans, and I get IMPATIENT.”

Sans chuckled, stroking over Grillby's face before taking off the Fire Monster's glasses. “Impatience makes for a better lay,” he replied, his grin going devious. “Hell, if it makes ya feel better, I'll pick up some sleep syrup next month. He'll be out in no time.”

Papyrus's jaw dropped; his brother would do THAT? Just to come here and do THIS!? Why?! WHY was this even happening!? He gripped the corner of the hall, fighting to keep his bones from rattling and giving away his position. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be listening to his brother and Grillby conspiring behind his back to drug him just to sneak around and do THIS.

He clenched his eye sockets shut, but it did nothing to drown out the sound of clothing shifting, Sans moaning, and Grillby growling. He turned from the corner and slumped silently to the floor, hugging his knees and wishing he could will himself to MOVE. To LEAVE.

To NOT LISTEN.

Sans gasped around the corner, accompanied by a slick sound that made his spine shudder violently in a way that made his bones heat up. “Oh gods...!” Sans groaned. “Fuck, more, just do it—“

“Don't rush me, Sans,” came Grillby's growling reply. “I waited a month for this, and I want to ENJOY IT.” Papyrus's cheekbones went fiery hot, hearing more wet sounds follow, accompanied by San's heavy pants and moans.

He shouldn't look.

He should LEAVE.

He should get up and LEAVE.

Papyrus peeked around the corner.

He saw his brother splayed out on the bar, femurs held apart by Grillby's hands with the Flame Monster's head settled between them and being held tightly by Sans's own hands. The flames from Grillby's head flickered and licked harmlessly around Sans's fingers, solid enough to be grasped and tugged as Sans arched his back off of the bar and egged him on.

Just over the edge of the bar, Papyrus could make out Sans's expression; pure ecstasy and thrill, cheekbones flushed blue and eyelights glimmering and hazy with lust. It was so unlike Papyrus had EVER seen on his brother, it was like a jolt of shock through his system. He didn't know HOW to react to this, but he couldn't tear his gaze away for the life of him.

And the longer he stared, the more he became aware that his magic was reacting peculiarly. Still, his eyelights stayed trained to his brother as his femurs squirmed together, his hand flexing slightly and trailing between them.

Sans gasped loudly, his hips bucking hard before he slumped to the bar, trembling. “Ffffffuck, Grillbz....” he murmured, his eyelights glimmering blue as he petted over Grillby's head, tugging lightly on the flames to lift the Flame Monster's head up. “C'mon, please...!”

 _Please_....that needy, husky pitch that was so unlike his brother that was sending sparks up and down Papyrus's spine and coalescing in his pelvic region. He shivered at the unfamiliar sensation, but found it wasn't at all a BAD one, just.....

 _So very lewd_.

His hand brushed over the hem of his sleep pants as his eyelights firmly fixated on the other two Monsters, watching as Grillby stood up to loom over Sans, one hand busying itself between them and Papyrus heard the distinctive sound of a belt coming undone. His face went hot; he wasn't ignorant as to what most Monsters had covered between their legs, or what it was used for.

Was he really doing this? Was he really watching his brother and Grillby doing this?

_Why were they doing this?_

The thought gave him pause, his hand trembling over his pelvis. Why was Sans sneaking out to do this? It was so...CLASSLESS! It was—

“So damn glad your brother is sleeping tonight,” Grillby growled, running his hands over Sans's rib cage. “And YOU should feel lucky...I would have likely paid you a visit if you weren't here.” He leaned down, nipping at Sans's neck bones, his hand curling gently around Sans's spine, stroking it slowly.

Sans moaned, his spine arching with Grillby's hand, his femurs parting wider. “I'm close to lettin' ya,” he gasped, curling his hands in the open folds of his lover's shirt. “I'll put sleep syrup in Pap's milk, I'll leave th' door open, we'll fuck on th' couch, I don't CARE, just FUCK ME—!” He cut off with a sharp yelp, pulling hard on Grillby's shirt when the Flame Monster's hips snapped forward. “YES—FUCK—!”

Grillby curled a hand around to hold Sans's pelvis up by the sacrum, his free hand bracing on the bar beside the Skeleton's head, his body temperature fluctuating in waves that coincided with his baritone growling. “I plan to, Sans,” he intoned, leaning down with his face barely an inch from Sans's, his voice dropping so low that Papyrus had to strain to hear him say, “and I want to hear you scream.”

Papyrus's magic was quaking, his head going fuzzy and hot as he watched Grillby fuck his brother into the bar surface. There was no other word for it; the actual action was as crude as the word, and it fit the bill PERFECTLY as he watched Grillby rut into his screaming brother like a beast.

Sans's reaction and expression from before was NOTHING compared to now, the small Skeleton clinging to Grillby to tightly his phalanges threatened to fray the back of Grillby's vest. Sans's cries echoed three-fold through Papyrus's skull, resonating down through the rest of his bones and seeping into his magic to the point where the heat in his pelvis was impossible to ignore. Papyrus's hand clenched tightly before it unclenched and dipped under the waistband of his sleep pants, his breath hitching as his fingers touched his magic.

He'd been curious of himself for some time, ever since Sans gave him that Talk a few years ago. Nothing seemed to give him a real NEED to explore, per se, and so it was very low on his priorities when it came to personal time. NOW, it seemed to be several years' worth of neglect piling on all at once, his magic throbbing with NEED as he watched the vulgar display, the baser need for the magic's make to, in some way, participate for...

….for what?

Papyrus choked back a soft cry when his fingers curled around his magic, not even looking to feel that he had constructed something in the vague semblance of a tendril. Only the beastly cries of the other two Monsters kept him from being heard, but a bit of the last rational scraps of thought had him improvise, stuffing a section of his scarf between his teeth and biting down hard.

His hand moved of its own accord, stroking and squeezing as his sight blurred watching his brother and Grillby, taking in the unnatural warmth of the Flame Monster's body, the scent of Grillby's and Sans's magics combining into a scent not unlike burning pine wood, the look of utter euphoria on Sans's face and the the sound of Grillby's guttural, possessive growling mingling with Sans's moans for more more MORE—

A sharp growl of his own vibrated up through Papyrus's neck bones, a wave of unfamiliar aphrodesia washing over him. He didn't care, he didn't THINK, all he could do was restrain the urge to jump into the fray and do SOMETHING...or someONE, at this point, his admirable self-control was not picky.

With as much will as he could muster, he kept THAT urge at bay, feeling his magic burn hotter as sharp tingles of pleasure shuddered over his bones. He bit down harder on his scarf, his other hand scrambling for something to hold onto and finally clenching around his own spine, mimicking what Grillby had done to his brother. His hands moved in sync, his vision unable to even focus anymore as he lost himself to the sensation of his magic churning and burning, wishing more than ANYTHING to have one of the Monsters before him being the one to touch him instead.

The sound of his brother's orgasmic screaming that was almost loud enough to perhaps be heard outside triggered his own release, his teeth gnashing into his scarf that muffled his own screech as he came in his hand, his magic throbbing deliciously with enough force to make him tear up from the sweet release. He slumped against the wall, deftly aware of his magic simmering down to a manageable state as he caught his breath and felt his senses clear, keeping his scarf in his mouth to muffle his ragged breathing.

It was several moments later that he felt his face flush with shame at what he had done, the thoughts he had even for a MOMENT considered...! He felt his body shake violently, unable to make heads or tails of ANYTHING that had just happened, wiping the tears from his eye sockets as he chanced another glance around the corner.

Sans was clinging to Grillby for dear life, his eyelights hazy and unfocused as he panted into the Flame Monster's shoulder. Grillby was purring softly, his hand petting over Sans's head affectionately, though the hunch in his shoulders and crackling of his flamed body spoke of anything but tenderness.

“I hope you don't think we're through,” Grillby said, his voice almost devious. “You've got quite some time to make up for this month, my dear Sans.”

Sans groaned, turning his head and kissing his lover lazily, his grin widening. “Keep goin',” he said, shakily curling his legs around Grillby's waist before kissing him again.

In the last bit of real sense Papyrus had, he quickly got to his feet and hurried as quietly as he could out the back, sliding through the gap in the door and sensibly doubling back to close it all the way before bolting home as quickly as he could. En route, he noticed that it was beginning to snow, and thought about how his footprints would be completely covered by morning, erasing any evidence that he had been there.

If only the same could be said of what he had WITNESSED.

He walked into his house and shut the door, tapping the snow from his boots, knowing that Sans wouldn't even notice come morning, and made his way upstairs to his room. He shrugged off his jacket, put his boots away in the corner, and unwound his saliva-soaked scarf from his neck, staring at it for a moment before hanging it over the foot of his bed before crawling under the covers, staring up at the ceiling as he had been doing before it all began.

He even wondered if it had really happened...if it had all just been a dream. Perhaps he'd never even left his bed, and just IMAGINED the whole thing.

...yes, he rationalized...that had to be it. He was tired, having lucid fantasies from his exhaustion.

….....what a thing to fantasize about.

_What, indeed._

He shuddered, his cheekbones warming as he replayed that vivid fantasy in his mind, those horrible, LEWD thoughts concerning Grillby and his own brother, and closed his eye sockets as his hand trailed to the hem of his sleep pants, honing in on Grillby's voice and scent, his brother's throes of ecstasy...

And absently, he wondered if after all that, Grillby cleaned the bar before work the next morning.

 


	2. Don't Take Candy From Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recipe: US Papyrus, Drugging, Honeymustard

In many ways, finding the way into this universe that was affectionately dubbed as 'Swap' was a huge blessing. It had an air of quiet peace to it, the kind that made it so easy to let down your guard and let yourself BREATHE after years of suffocating under one's own self-preservation.

That was how Sans felt now.

He was reclining under a tree, enjoying the scent of pine and freshness without the sharp tang of blood and dust that would have permeated the air back in his own world. He enjoyed coming here from time to time when he needed space from that murderous world of his...and, yes, space from his younger sibling.

Odd he would make that escape only to end up here, enjoying the peace with...his younger sibling.

Well, this Papyrus—'Stretch', as he liked to be called—was truly a 'swap' of a personality concerning his own brother's demeanor. Where there were sharp angles and rigid posture on his brother, this Papyrus was all smoothness and relaxation. Everything from his eyelights to his smile were soft and almost lazy, being in no hurry to do anything.

Sometimes Sans—affectionately dubbed 'Red' by this juxtaposed Papyrus—would just sit and stare and ponder over the differences between the two. He would keep in mind of his brother, tall, regal, sharp in tone as well as appearance, as he looked on Stretch, who hardly even seemed to be related to his own Papyrus, let alone fundamentally be the same person. Where Papyrus had more bulk to his bones from training and the hellish conditions of their world, Stretch had a tad more height, in reference to his nickname. He would take almost gliding strides as opposed to a purposeful march, move with carelessness and ease, and just seemed to go with the flow of anything that happened in his world.

And Red would find himself yearning for the same, really.

It was why he came here...to taste a bit of that carefree spirit that was stifled in his own world. As his own brother greatly disliked the world of 'Swap'— _“Nothing but careless fools and shiftless dreamers!”_ —Red felt comfort in knowing he could come here and actively enjoy himself.

Especially if he had Stretch's company.

It wasn't that he PREFERRED Stretch over his brother...far from it. But sometimes he just wanted to be near someone who resembled his brother without the constant aura of killing intent, even if it wasn't directed right at him. It was just a break, he rationalized to himself. A much-needed source of camaraderie and relaxation.

If only he didn't have a crush on the guy.

He almost didn't come today, he thought as he glanced over at his brother's double who was reclining back next to him; his hands flexed into the snow, trying not make it obvious. He was terrible at that, he always had been. He was never subtle about his attraction to his brother, something that Papyrus was always quick to point out and chastise. What they did in their home was one thing, but displaying a weakness of that sort in public was just ASKING for a dusting.

But here, in THIS universe, Red had seen Monsters making out on a park bench without a care in the world. It was a dream come true for someone as touch-starved as he was.

…......LESS of a dream that he had to keep restraining himself from indulging in that starvation with Stretch.

He caught himself almost whimpering whenever Stretch got touchy with him; it was casual observance of him and and his own double—'Blue', he'd gone with, mostly to counteract his own nickname of 'Red'—that the brothers here were not afraid in the least to show physical affection. Blue was a big fan of hugs and Stretch was more than receptive of them, although the taller Skeleton rather preferred an arm around the shoulder or something of that casual nature.

Red desired such contact, of course he did...but having it come from someone who shared a similar soul aura with his own beloved brother, whom he loved more than life itself in ways brothers shouldn't...

...it was a recipe for disaster.

So he tried his hardest to keep his hands—and wandering thoughts—to himself.

Stretch's arm slinging around his shoulders reminded him that he was, in fact, there and not informed of Red's apparent need for self-control. He felt himself tense up at the sudden intrusion of his personal space and instantly regretted it when Stretch glanced down at him.

“You alright down there, pal?” the tall Skeleton asked, taking note of Red's discomfort yet making no move to remove the source of it. “You seem a little...high-strung. More than usual.”

Red felt his cheekbones blush, squirming in place. “'m fine,” he muttered, wishing he could disappear into his own jacket. He could feel his touch-starvation whine and bay out for satisfaction, and was seriously considering giving in.

By some miracle, he felt the arm being removed from around his shoulders as Stretch sat up and looked him over. “...you hurt or somethin'?” Stretch asked, giving Red a critical look. Red quickly shook his head, his hands playing with the open hems of his jacket.

“Nah, I'm not hurt,” he replied. “Just...” _Starved for affection and touch, associating you with my brother, in desperate need of a cuddle like you'd give Blue._ “...stressed.” Okay, well that wasn't a lie, at least.

Stretch stared for a moment before nodding with a look of understanding. “Stressed, huh?” he murmured, rummaging around in his pockets. “I got just th' thing for stress, buddy.” He gave a triumphant grin when he pulled out a handful of material and holding it out between them, among them being a small stack of papers, a lighter, and a baggie of dried leaves.

Red stared at them, feeling a jolt of longing and dread merge in a pool at the base of his soul. He was no stranger to illicit substances back in his world; though the drug ring was dealt with much better in the Capitol, anyone could have anything they wanted in Snowdin, if they knew the right guy.

And Red knew them all, names and phone numbers memorized by heart.

That is, until Papyrus stepped in through the Guard and began cleansing Snowdin of its dependency on such substances, and Red was no exception. It took a couple years, even cold-turkey, for him to finally stop craving something at the first twinge of stress. It remained difficult considering anything could go down in Grillby's bar, so long as Papyrus wasn't around and disagreements were taken outside.

Still, Red had been off this stuff for two years now, yet it was staring him in the face and making him recall the sweet, sweet caress of inebriation. “Uhh...” he said oh-so intelligently. “...I...shit, I've been off that stuff for awhile now, Stretch...” He forced his eyelights down to his hands, feeling the craving for even just one hit drown out his starvation for touch.

“But you know what it is, at least,” Stretch said, opening the bag and preparing it as he spoke. He rolled it up tight and flicked open his lighter, lighting the end of it. “And trust me, this is hardly th' worst thing you can have here. It's mild as hell, an' wears off after a couple of hours.” He took a drag before letting the smoke sift through is teeth, grinning as he held it out to Red.

If Red's desire had a stomach, it would be growling right now. He stared at the piece almost hungrily, his hands flexing into his jacket. “....I....I can't...” he said, shifting where he sat. “...Pap...I mean, Boss, he'd...”

“'Boss' ain't here right now, is he?” Stretch said, his voice having a mocking tilt at the word 'Boss', as he normally did when addressing his darker counterpart. “He can run his Snowdin th' way he wants, but he's got shit to say about this one.” He held it out closer to Red. “An' let's face it, you NEED a little unwinding.”

Red flicked his eyelights from the joint to Stretch's face, feeling his self-control fray at the indisputable logic. It was true, he DID come here to relax and unwind and to just...not feel so BAD anymore.

Almost of its own accord, his hand reached up and took the piece, holding it for a long moment before bringing it to his teeth and taking a long drag.

_Oh sweet, murderous gods, yes._

He kept the smoke inside for as long as he could muster before exhaling heavily, his body slumping. “.....ffffffuck yeah,” he murmured, dropping his skull back against the tree trunk as he deftly lifted his hand to give the joint back to Stretch, who accepted it and took a drag of his own.

“That's what I'm talkin' about,” the taller Skeleton purred, giving Red a wide, lazy grin. “You take it like a champ.” He curled his arm around Red again. “How ya feelin' now?”

Actually? Red was feeling pre-tty good right now. The tension left his bones and his head felt lighter than air, making him actually struggle to remember what he had ever been so stressed about in the first place. He relaxed against Stretch's arm, sighing heavily. “...wow...” he muttered, grinning. “What was even in that stuff?”

Stretch's arm tightened around him. “The good shit, my other-brother,” he replied. “Take another hit.” Instead of handing the piece back over, he took a long drag, then leaned down, tipping Red's skull to his, and pressed his teeth to Red's, exhaling the smoke into Red's mouth.

About fifteen different emotions ran through Red's mind, and only two of them were pleasant; still, he couldn't help but breathe in the drug vapor, feeling his bones tingle pleasantly as it was absorbed into his magic. He felt a shudder run up his spine before it was relaxed back down with the soporific effects, his mind clouding even more as he slumped against Stretch.

The taller Skeleton pressed in closer, and Red felt a soft tingle of magic against his teeth a brief moment before an orange ectoplasmic tongue ran over his sharpened edges, dipping into his mouth shallowly as though teasing him. Red shuddered hard, feeling his magic pool into his mouth on reflex and giving something for Stretch to prod and play with. His hands shakily took hold of Stretch's hoodie; to pull closer or push away, he didn't know. He wasn't able to make up his mind, his rational thoughts hiding behind the haze of the drug, and he could only hold onto Stretch tighter to ground himself to SOMETHING.

Red's head dropped back, unable to properly hold it up anymore. “Tha' wuzzn't normal shit...” he slurred, able to hone in on THAT fact quite easily. He felt the world tip backwards, and felt the ground beneath him tilt—when had he laid down anyway?—as Stretch loomed over him, the taller Skeleton's eyelights gleaming almost deviously.

“I told ya, Red,” he purred, sliding himself between Red's femurs, “it was th' good shit. You've been off it for too long...” He pressed little kisses to Red's skull as he pressed his pelvis down to Red's. “We can fix that for ya...”

Red flushed darkly, groaning softly despite himself. “W...wait....” he muttered, only to have his teeth captured in another kiss. He parted his jaws to allow a tongue to pass through, his thoughts becoming distracted from the familiarity of it.

... _Boss..._

He could only think about his Boss, his brother, his lover...the heavy weight domineering over him as he submitted entirely under the younger's will. Sharp hands that undressed him, clawed phalanges that scraped over his bones, teeth that drew marrow...all things that Red craved and took as much sick delight in as the Skeleton that inflicted it on him.

Red's vision was one big blur, only able to FEEL as his shorts were removed, his sweater tugged up over his ribs, a large hand palming at his quickly-congealing magic in his pelvis. He moaned, squirming in the snow and parting his femurs wider in invitation.

 _Boss is in a good mood,_ he thought, his soul fluttering with a surge of thrill. He loved it when his Boss was happy...relations between them was more drawn out, more focused on touch rather than just fucking. His breath hitched, hips bucking up when he felt two long fingers push into the mound he had formed in his pelvis.

***

Stretch licked his teeth, his eyelight almost burning as he watched Red writhing under him, the smaller Skeleton's red eyelights wide and bright, flickering with lust and haze from the drug.

 _Fuck, that's hot_ , he thought, working his fingers faster into that tight mass of magic that Red had formed. He didn't know that his special stash would have this much of an effect on the other Skeleton; maybe Red HAD been off the stuff for too long...

“Guhhh......ffffuck....Boss....!”

Red's voice had Stretch stilling his fingers. 'Boss'. That goddamn edgelord version of himself that needed a good kick in the coccyx and a fist in the teeth. The way that asshole looked at his brother sometimes like a piece of gum to chew and spit back out...despicable.

But obviously he was good enough of a lover for Red to be thinking about him at a time like this.

Yeah, he could work with this.

Stretch nuzzled Red's skull, letting out a guttural growl that he immediately felt a reaction to. Red clenched tightly around his fingers, bones taking on a hot red flush. Beautiful. He used his other hand to undo his cargos and stroke at his tendril-like appendage, watching Red squirm and moan and getting more excited by the minute.

“B...Boss....please....!” Red whimpered, his hands reaching out to clutch into Stretch's hoodie. “Please please please fuck me please...!”

Well, he couldn't leave him waiting.

* * *

Red blinked open his eye sockets, sensing himself in familiar territory. He sat up, rubbing his skull and seeing that he was in his own house in his own universe, on his own couch. His head felt like helium in a lead ball, doing nothing for the migraine he had obviously developed during his time asleep.

He absently wondered how he got here. The last thing he remembered...or he THOUGHT he remembered...was Boss fucking him silly before—

“FINALLY, you're awake.”

Red looked up, seeing his brother glowering at him with a mug of steaming drink in his hand. Boss stalked over, putting the mug down with more force than necessary on the coffee table. “You got so lazy at that you slept through your return time! I had to fetch you from that drug-addled asshole's dimension!” He crossed his arms. “Drink the damn coffee, Sans, we have work later.” He turned on heel and stalked back in the kitchen.

Red picked up the mug, sipping it. Piping hot, with lots of milk that Boss always insisted on for 'stronger bones'. He smiled, his face flushing as he thought of earlier, of the little little gestures being displayed now, evidence that Boss was still in his good mood.

Well, it wouldn't do well to ruin it, would it?

“...heh...whatever you say, Boss...”

 


	3. Smile For the Camera, Babe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recipe: Swapfell Papyrus, Drugs, Filming, Swapfellcest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's shorter, but just as sweet. *evil wink*

In a lifestyle like theirs, it was only natural that experimentation was a must—and a desire.

Nothing was really off-limits, so long as they were both comfortable, and they were safe. Naturally, most of it was done in the safety and security of their own home.

It was all planned out; work for the labs was done and the Monarchy didn't have any jobs lined up for them, so they had a whole weekend of free time to play with. Papyrus had been the one to pick up tonight's subject matter, having used a good bit of money and put in a few favors to pick it up from Muffet's.

An iridescent purple liquid in a small vial that Muffet swore by; pay her enough and she'll give a more honest answer. This particular strain would supposedly turn the mind into a deep pool of water and strip the nerves down to their most delicate reception. An interesting combination to say the least, but one that hadn't been tried before.

As was the rule with anything new, they would try it one at a time to make sure of its safety before imbibing together. Also was was the usual with anything drug-related, Sans was going first.

Sans never put Papyrus at risk with these types of things, having a stronger constitution for drugs as it was. It didn't stop him from examining the make of it in his home lab before taking it up to their room and shutting the door. “It's good to go,” he announced, setting it on the table to take off his clothes, reclining back on the bed. “How much did she say?”

Papyrus smiled, crawling onto the bed and nuzzling his Lord's femur. “Three drops, m'Lord,” he replied. “May I please distribute it to you?”

Sans smiled, parting his jaws and letting his tongue form and slither out, making himself comfortable as Papyrus crawled up and took the vial from the nightstand and opened it. A strong, spicy scent immediately wafted between them, enough for excitement but not strong enough to turn off their interest. After taking a moment to appreciate the scent, Papyrus leaned up and slowly shook out three drops onto Sans's waiting tongue.

Sans relaxed back, waiting patiently for the drug to take effect as Papyrus nuzzled and caressed his bones. It was almost seamless when the euphoria hit like a brick to the skull.

His whole body felt like lead while his mind felt lighter than air, suddenly hyper-aware of the silk sheets on his bed on his bones, smoothly nestling against him like the gentlest water waves. He hissed softly, his grin tugging up as he spread his limbs out, enjoying the sensation. “....fffffffffuck.....!” he purred, dropping his head back. “....ssssssso....amazing....”

Papyrus smiled as he watched his small Lord writhe around on the black silk sheets as though swimming in ebony water. What a splendid view, watching those ivory limbs wave and glide, rib cage expand and flex with deep, fluttery breaths and a brightly-pulsing soul. It was a glorious sight, an absolutely beautiful vision...

His hand slowly crept toward his pants, keeping his eyelights locked on his Lord as he dipped his hand into his pocket...

...and pulled out his phone.

He didn't even look away from his smaller brother as his thumb found the camera button and turned it on, aiming it directly at Sans. “How are you feeling, m'Lord?” he inquired, keeping his tone low to avoid possibly startling his brother out of euphoria.

Sans was none the wiser, his bones rattling softly with pleasured purrs as he stretched out against the silk sheets again. “....mmmm....amaaaaazing, Papy....” he moaned, his eyelights almost taking up half his eye sockets, glimmering a lovely hazy cerulean. “I'm swimming in silk...!”

Papyrus smirked. “Yes, yes you are,” he replied, holding the phone out further, focusing it on his brother's torso. “You look so beautiful, Sans...so beautiful...”

Sans purred, his bones rattling softly at the praise as he managed to turn over onto his front, caressing and nuzzling the silk sheets. “....fffeeeeeell beautiful....” he purred, his spine flexing and arching with his movements. His eyelights glimmered and flickered like blue coal cinders, completely unfocused on anything.

Papyrus though...Papyrus was focused on EVERYTHING.

He kept the phone poised on Sans as his eyelights roamed over every inch of his brother's slim, strong frame, taking note of every detail. Sans's bones had a dust of blue flush, glistening with a thin sheen of perspiration. Strong hands flexed into the sheets, tugging them closer to his oversensitive bones as he continued to squirm around in euphoric bliss.

_Absolutely precious._

It was glorious, seeing his normally composed Lord come so entirely undone like this. It was the rarest of treats he got to experience, and trying new things of this sort was one of them. He licked his teeth, zooming in on his brother's face. “If only you knew how delightful you look, Sansy,” he growled. “So open and vulnerable for me...” He felt a shudder rattle his frame. “Turn over for me and show me your soul.”

Sans took a few tries to turn over onto his back, his rib cage expanding and contracting with his deep, dazed breaths as he ran his hand over it, whimpering from the light stimulation as his beautiful soul ghosted up through his ribs. A bright, pale ethereal organ that pulsed with a core of cerulean, quivering from the drug-related side-effects. It made Papyrus salivate, desiring nothing more than to sink his teeth into it and suck it dry, but he resisted.

“Gorgeous,” he hissed, honing the camera in on it. “Touch it for me.”

Sans purred, reaching up and touching over it with quivering phalanges, keening loudly at the intense throb of pleasure that he felt in every bone of his body. “Pap—!”

“Keep going,” Papyrus instructed, ignoring a line of saliva that ran down his mandible. “Keep going, just like that.” The phone shook slightly in his hand as he watched Sans fondle his own soul, capturing every quaking limb, every arch of his spine, every guttural, delicious moan on his camera phone. His hand tightened around his phone, growling louder when Sans pumped his fingers into his soul, thrashing and screeching like a beast. It took every ounce of self-control to not toss his phone away and take his brother violently—

And he wouldn't.

This would do.

Sans squeezed his soul, letting out a piercing wail as it gushed between his fingers, dripping onto his rib cage lewdly before he loosened his grip, letting his hand drop on the bed. His frame twitched, eyelights still blown but faint, an expression of contented blankness on his face as his soul shimmered and slipped back into its home within the soaked rib cage.

And Papyrus caught ALL of it on camera.

He smiled, keeping the footage rolling until his brother went still before stopping the recording and saving it. He petted over Sans's skull before tugging the sheet up to tuck him in, reclining back on the bed next to him and lighting up a cigarette.

His phone buzzed, and he saw it was from Muffet, answering with a grin. “Hey, Muffet. Yeah, we've got it.” He glanced over at Sans, his grin widening. “Yep, just one drop at a time, just like you said. Yeah. Sure will. Gotta go now, Muffy, ta-ta!” He ended the call in the middle of Muffet screeching _DON'T CALL ME THAT!_ and pulled back up the video file.

His Lord so undone and vulnerable...he would be scandalized, furious, LIVID if he knew he had been filmed in such a state.

Papyrus smirked, sending the file to his private email before deleting it from his phone. He'd enjoy it later.

…..just as he did with all the others.

 


End file.
